Dorne shall be mine

(this chapter shall also be mainly story based.)

Daemon smiled as he thought of Dorne, specifically the girls and wine. Daemon held the Dornish in high esteem, having immense respect for their culture. As much as he wished he could take Dorne easily, he knew they'd fight with fire in their hearts. Tyria made her way off his cock, smiling widely as she stood next to his throne, cum dripping out of her still wet cunt. "Vicor, we shall take Dorne, and, perhaps with luck and skill, the Reach or the Stormlands as well. Anora, send an emissary to the Ironborn, offering an alliance. Vicor, take a fleet across the south coast, and harass the dornish. Also, send some ships to scout out the Arbor as well." Vicor nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. Vicor viewed Daemon almost as a son, and was glad to see the glint of ambition in his eyes. Anora nodded, her smile widening slightly, eyes showing an unguarded respect for him. The council left without needing a dismissal, and Daemon stood up, pulling his pants back up and kissing Tyria's cheek. "I'll have to leave you here, sexy." Tyria smiled understandingly, having had to wait for Daemon before. She kissed him before heading off, humming as she did. Daemon grabbed his sheathed sword, the blood red jewel in the pommel looking dim, and, for those who looked at it for more than a second, could've swore the jewel shifted like a pool of blood. Daemon headed towards his massive flagship, the Sea-Dragon, with its arrow slits, massive deck and large sails, and its swiveling Valyrian fire turrets.